


Five Emotional Bards

by bulletincookie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Eventual Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Needs A Nap, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Rating will change, emotion split due to magical fuckery, he also needs a lot of alcohol, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletincookie/pseuds/bulletincookie
Summary: A few months after the dragon hunt went to shit, the last thing Geralt was expecting in a random town was for Jaskier to come charging up to him and yell at him. He really should have expected it, but he didn't realize that Jaskier was in this town. What he never could have expected was four other Jaskiers to come rushing in to pull the pissed off Jaskier off of him.No amount of alcohol could help him deal with this.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 77
Kudos: 256





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! I have a long list of WIPs and other fics on here that need updating, but instead I decided "you know what? im gonna start another longfic." and so here I am! Get ready for a clusterfuck!
> 
> Many thanks to The Amazing Devil discord server for enabling my terrible ideas and behaviors, and for enabling my smut addiction and convincing me to eventually make this smutty. You're all terrible and I love you.

Geralt knew the phrase "be careful what you wish for" was absolutely true, but he hadn't thought it would backfire this much.

He had tried to put the disaster of the dragon hunt behind him. Jaskier was gone, Yennefer was gone, and he just wanted to get absolutely wasted for one night and forget it all in a fuzzy haze of alcohol. Except to do that, he needed a lot of herbs and money. The herbs were easy enough to gather, but the money was more difficult to come across.

So he wandered from town to town for contracts. Missing loved ones that turned out to be dead more often than not, monsters too close to the village for comfort, herbs that he came across but didn’t need, and nests that he had happened to come across in his search all helped him slowly build up the funds he needed to get truly and utterly fucked up.

Just as he was entering the town that seemed to be more or less decent and hopefully had some good alcohol, he heard a shout.

“ _YOU!_ ”

He tensed up and turned just in time to see Jaskier charging at him, his teeth bared in a snarl. Jaskier gripped the front of his shirt and jostled him a bit, his eyes alight with fury.

“What the hell are you doing here?! Are you following me?” Jaskier demanded.

Geralt was struck speechless. The bard had never openly confronted him with such hostility. Just when he was starting to get his bearings, a _second_ Jaskier came jogging up and grabbed the first one.

“Let him go!” the second Jaskier insisted, prying the first one off. A doppler?

Geralt immediately drew his silver sword, but both Jaskiers flinched back with a small “eep!”. He pointed the sword at the one still glaring at him. “Explain.”

“Well, you see--” the second Jaskier started, but at that moment a third, fourth, and fifth one came around the corner, clearly winded. The fourth one had Jaskier’s lute slung on his back. So that was the real one. Jaskier would never let a doppler touch his lute.

“Wh-- Geralt, put that down!” the fourth one said with a stern point at Geralt. But he stopped when he saw the gleam of Geralt’s sword. “Is that your silver sword? I thought steel was for men?”

Geralt blinked at the five of them, and slowly lowered his sword. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.

“I think the best thing is to talk this out in my room,” the second Jaskier had said, and gingerly took Geralt’s hand and led him along while the other four followed along, around him like an escorting party.

Geralt sighed when he saw the inn. Of course it was a nicer one. At least maybe that would mean it would have better alcohol that would get him drunk faster. He let himself be bullied inside by the five Jaskiers.

The innkeep at the bar looked at him strangely when he walked up with five of the same bard crowding around him. Geralt didn't pay her any mind.

"I need a room for...a few nights," he said with a sigh. "Just one bed."

The woman looked at him, then looked at the five Jaskiers.

"We already have a room," one of them spoke up to reassure her. "This is an acquaintance that we ran into. Thought we'd bring his business here, since you have such a lovely place."

The innkeeper didn't look swayed by Jaskier's usual flattery, and she still eyed Geralt warily. "You a witcher?"

Geralt internally braced himself for the steep price he knew was coming. "Yes--"

"You got a problem with that?!" one of the Jaskiers spoke up, the first one that had confronted Geralt and glared at him. He now was defending Geralt. Huh. 

One of the other Jaskiers cuffed the one that spoke up upside the head. "Don't be rude to such a lovely lady, she's simply trying to run her business. I'm so sorry about him. What's the price? I'll split it with the witcher here."

The innkeeper only looked more disturbed. "Thirty crowns per night."

"You fucking gouger!" the first Jaskier snapped angrily, only to have the second one clap a hand over his mouth and pull him back.

"I'll take it," Geralt said with a long-suffering sigh. The innkeeper smiled in sympathy at that and Geralt set to count out the money, but the Jaskier still wrangling the angry Jaskier stopped him.

"I said I would pay for half and I do not go back on my promises my good witcher," he assured him. He looked over at the Jaskier with the lute. "Mind getting the money? I'm..a bit busy here." He hissed as the Jaskier he was wrangling bit down on his hand. "Please hurry."

"Right." The Jaskier with the lute counted out the coin and handed it to Geralt, who handed it and the other half to the innkeep. The woman checked briefly to make sure it was the right amount and then handed a key to Geralt.

"Eighth room," she said.

Geralt gave her a stiff nod. "Thank you." He looked to the other Jaskiers. "Uh..Where's your room?"

"This way." The Jaskier that was currently wrangling the angry one let go, and led the pack of them up the stairs and down the hall. One of the other Jaskiers procured the key and unlocked the room, and they all were ushered inside like geese.

The minute they got into the room, the witcher pulled a chair up and sank down into it. “Well?”

“Well what?” one of the Jaskiers asked, plopping down on the bed. Two others sank down on either side of him, and the one that had grabbed Geralt initially sat cross legged on the floor to glare up at him. The Jaskier with the lute sank down in a chair on the other side of the room to scribble in a journal.

“Why are there four dopplers all taking Jaskier’s appearance and following him around?” Geralt snapped.

The one that spoke raised up his hands in defense. “No, no, you have it all wrong. We’re all Jaskier. We, uh. Are just Jaskier split into different...emotions? Except for that one.” He gestured to the one with the lute. “He got all of the drive to perform.”

“Which one is which?” Geralt asked. He was already losing track of how each one responded.

“That’s easy! I’m the happy one,” the Jaskier seated in the middle of the three on the bed chirped. He slung an arm around the one curled up on the corner, turned away from them all. “This one’s the sad one.” Happy Jaskier let go of him and moved to pat the head of the Jaskier on the floor. “This one’s the angry one. Sorry about him attacking you.”

“I could guess that already,” Geralt muttered.

“The one back there is the performer,” Happy Jaskier continued, gesturing over his shoulder at the Jaskier with the lute. “He’s the one that is best at playing and singing in front of a crowd.” However, Happy Jaskier paused when he looked at the Jaskier on his left. “Um...I don’t actually know which one you are.”

“How do you not know?” Geralt scoffed. This was getting more and more ridiculous.

The unnamed Jaskier shrugged. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Right.” Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. So that must be the original Jaskier, the one the four others split from. “Okay. How did this happen?”

"I wanted to only feel happiness! And Yennefer was so nice and gave me that wish, she said I got to help her out with trying something!" Happy Jaskier said, perched on the edge of the bed.

"Right." Geralt rubbed his temples. How the hell was he supposed to handle five Jaskiers at once? He could barely keep track of one. He looked at each of them. They all looked like Jaskier, but the expression on each face was to the extremes. It wasn't that difficult to figure out each one. Happy Jaskier, Sad Jaskier, Performer Jaskier, Original Jaskier.

The first one he encountered, the one that charged up to him and snarled venom at him in his face but also nearly started a brawl with the innkeep, he deemed Bitchy Jaskier. 

"Why did you ask that?" Geralt asked, wondering if there was ever enough ale in the world to deal with this.

"I.." Sad Jaskier spoke up, and then flinched back when Geralt looked at him. He gestured vaguely with his hands. "I didn't want…to feel this anymore. I was tired of being upset over every glare, every-- every name and harsh word." He hiccuped and scrubbed at his watering eyes while Happy Jaskier rubbed at his back. "I spent twenty-two years of my life with someone who only made me feel _worse_."

"That's not true," Original Jaskier spoke up with a frown.

"Oh yeah? Care to tell what about it isn't true to this whoreson?!" Bitchy Jaskier snapped. Geralt was getting a headache from all of the voices that sounded like Jaskier arguing.

"There were good times!" Happy Jaskier cut in.

Original Jaskier nodded. "Like the time he offered to pay anything to make me better."

"After he nearly _killed me!_ " Bitchy Jaskier snarled. "The bastard couldn't even be bothered to say anything comforting while blood poured from my mouth! He didn't care that I was alive, he only cared about Yennefer!"

Original Jaskier opened his mouth to respond, but promptly shut it again and turned his head away as a loud sob came from Sad Jaskier.

Geralt felt torn and confused. Dealing with one bard was bad enough, he was going to go insane if he had to deal with all five Jaskiers arguing with each other all the time. "I, uh…Didn't think you would fight with yourself this much. Thought you'd have an orgy with yourself."

"I proposed it," Original Jaskier piped up again, the change in topic relaxing his shoulders a bit. "But that one was still too angry, and that one was still crying," he said with a point at Bitchy Jaskier and Sad Jaskier respectively.

"Besides, I had to get us payment for our room," Performance Jaskier spoke up with a flourish. "Everyone else was too caught up in the confusion to think about where we were going to sleep."

Bitchy Jaskier slammed his hands down on the floor. "What, are you thinking about an orgy with me? What happened to life giving you that damn blessing you wanted so much!?"

"Ignore…uh. Me? Him?" Happy Jaskier hesitated, his lips pouting as his brow furrowed in that way that was so familiar it made something in Geralt's chest twist.

"This is so fucking confusing, why did I even go to that damn witch!" Bitchy Jaskier growled.

"Easy," Geralt muttered, holding a hand out like he was soothing a spooked horse. Bitchy Jaskier glared at his hand like it had personally offended him, and Geralt clenched his jaw to keep from cracking a smile at that. Even when royally pissed off, Jaskier still looked ridiculous. _Cute_ , a voice in the back of his mind supplied. He imagined stabbing the voice with both of his swords to shut it up.

"Well. I'm glad you came back," Happy Jaskier spoke up, taking Geralt's hand and giving it a small squeeze. Geralt blinked a couple times, not sure what to do with this. Was he meant to squeeze back?

Before he could think too hard on it, Original Jaskier scoffed and grabbed Happy Jaskier's wrist to tug his hand away from Geralt's. "Leave the poor man alone," he muttered, though there was a darker tone to his voice that Geralt couldn't figure out.

"I…don't mind," Geralt admitted, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He looked over at Sad Jaskier, who was curled up away again and had a hand clasped tight over his mouth to try to muffle his sobs. He couldn't hide the shaking of his shoulders though, and the others noticed too.

"Oh great, and now that one's crying again!" Bitchy Jaskier retorted. "Hey, stop crying, you hear me? He's not worth it!"

"Yes he is!" Original Jaskier blurted, then drew back with wide eyes. He cleared his throat. "I mean, well, he's helped me on occasion."

Bitchy Jaskier made a show of rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "Only because he had to."

"He could have left me for dead so many times," Original Jaskier continued, his gaze fixed on a spot to the side on the floor. "He tried to bargain with the elves to kill him and let me go."

"Yeah, because he didn't know me yet and thought I was innocent. I hadn't been a pain in the ass that caused all of his troubles yet!" Bitchy Jaskier retorted.

Geralt felt trapped. He didn't know what to do as Bitchy Jaskier and Original Jaskier kept arguing. Happy Jaskier tried to interject occasionally with good moments to back up Original Jaskier, only for Performance Jaskier to bring up the slights Geralt had made against his singing and playing, like leaving the minute he went up to play for a tavern once, and the comment about his singing being a fillingless pie. It seemed for every good moment Original Jaskier and Happy Jaskier could think of, Bitchy Jaskier and Performance Jaskier had rebuttals. That was a mess Geralt didn't feel like untangling right now.

Sad Jaskier seemed the only one not arguing, and it was because he was sobbing as each painful jab was brought up. The sight of Jaskier crying made something in Geralt's chest twist even more painfully. He carefully moved his chair to sit beside Sad Jaskier, and opened his arm.

"Wha'?" Sad Jaskier looked up at him with puffy, watery eyes that were filled with confusion.

"A hug," Geralt grunted. "If you want it."

He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't Sad Jaskier launching himself at Geralt and wrapping his arms and legs around his chest. Geralt shifted in the chair to get more comfortable with his lap suddenly full of bard. He wrapped his arms around Sad Jaskier, one arm around his back and the other hand cradling the back of his head. He threaded his fingers in soft brunet locks and rubbed the soft spot behind his ear with his thumb. Sad Jaskier buried his face in Geralt's chest and trembled with sniffles and choked off sobs.

It didn't take long for Sad Jaskier to melt into the soft touches, his tight grip on Geralt's chest loosening until he was nearly a puddle. His lithe fingers rhythmically gripped and released the back of Geralt's shirt and traced his fingers over the witcher's muscles through the shirt, not unlike a cat kneading a favorite blanket. He almost was purring like one too, small noises of content muffled in Geralt's shoulder. _Cute_ , the voice that should have been dead in the back of his mind spoke up again. Geralt pushed it aside and buried his nose in Sad Jaskier's hair. There was the sharp scent of salt on him from the tears, but there was still that familiar scent of wildflowers and grass underneath.

Geralt was so focused on trying to soothe Sad Jaskier that he didn't notice three of the other four staring wide-eyed at him until he realized that the soft hums of content coming from Sad Jaskier were the only noises in the room. Original Jaskier had gotten up and was searching for something in his packs, his back turned to them.

"Aww, so you do have a soft spot!" Performance Jaskier cooed and broke the silence once he saw that Geralt finally noticed them.

"Don't you dare write a ballad," Geralt muttered half-heartedly, his cheek squished against the top of Sad Jaskier's head.

"I've already written quite a few lines down from this mess," Performance Jaskier admitted with a show of his journal. "It's great material. A big and strong witcher, so used to killing monsters, must now comfort five noble, emotionally vulnerable bards and apologize for his actions on a windy mountain that the bard considered flinging himself off of--"

Bitchy Jaskier threw a boot at Performance Jaskier. "Shut up! He doesn't need to know that!"

Geralt froze and he looked at Original Jaskier, who had gone still. "Is that true?" he called over.

A small nod and a whimper from Sad Jaskier was all he needed to know. He looked down and held Sad Jaskier tighter. "I'm sorry," he whispered in Sad Jaskier's ear.

"What, didn't know your words have consequences?" Bitchy Jaskier retorted. "Did you not know that I have feelings that can get hurt like any other person?"

"I…didn't know it would," Geralt admitted. "I wasn't thinking."

Bitchy Jaskier huffed and stood. "Oh you were thinking alright, you were thinking about yourself. Why decide to apologize for that huh? Why not apologize for all of the times you told me to fuck off, that I'm not your friend, that I was only a pain in the ass that was another mouth to feed on your precious Path?"

Sad Jaskier was trembling again by the time Bitchy Jaskier was done, and Geralt rubbed his hand up and down his back. "Fine. You're right," he said, trying hard not to let Bitchy Jaskier's anger flare his own anger and frustration up. "I was only thinking about myself. I was tired of waiting for the time you would realize that the Path was not one meant for a bard and you would leave."

"Well guess what asshole! I'm still here!" Bitchy Jaskier snapped, his arms spreading. "I'm still here, because you don't get to decide what's good for me! I had enough of that at home, I'm walking my own Path! I've decided that mine is the same as yours, and there's not a thing you can do about it!" He gave a small laugh as Happy Jaskier did as well.

"Hm." Geralt focused back on soothing Sad Jaskier, who was back to running his hands over the witcher's back and giving small hums.

"Ooh! I don't recognize that, which one is it?" Happy Jaskier asked, looking over at Original Jaskier.

Original Jaskier sighed and stood, walking back and sitting back on the bed. "That's his 'you're right and I'm okay with it but I'd rather bleed to death slowly and painfully than admit that' grunt."

"What?" Geralt asked, now somehow even more confused than before.

"This one," Happy Jaskier clasped an arm around Original Jaskier's shoulders, "knows all of your grunts and what they mean."

"Why are you the only one that knows?" Geralt asked, looking at Original Jaskier, who seemed much more interested in checking his nails.

"I know some," Happy Jaskier corrected.

"So do I," Performance Jaskier said without looking up from his notebook.

Bitchy Jaskier gave a scoff. "Me too, you asshole."

"I do too," Sad Jaskier mumbled into his shoulder.

"So you all know some, but he knows all of them because he's Original Jaskier?" Geralt asked.

Bitchy Jaskier barked out a laugh. "You've already given us nicknames?" he asked.

"I have, Bitchy Jaskier," Geralt said, deadpanned.

"Oh that's so sweet!" Happy Jaskier cooed. "Which one am I?"

"Happy Jaskier." Geralt gestured to the Jaskier in his lap. "Sad Jaskier."

"Aww!" Happy Jaskier got up to stand behind Geralt and wrap his arms around him and Sad Jaskier.

"Original," Bitchy Jaskier retorted.

Performance Jaskier finally looked up from his book. "And me?"

"Performance Jaskier," Geralt replied easily.

Original Jaskier shifted and cleared his throat. "And you called me…Original Jaskier?"

"You act almost the same as before," Geralt said with a nod. "So, that means you're the original one that the others split from."

"Right you are! So smart, my handsome witcher in leather armor!" Happy Jaskier cooed with a nuzzle to Geralt's long hair. However, he quickly recoiled and wrinkled his nose. "Oh! You've been working hard, I see."

"I'll call for a bath," Original Jaskier said, standing up. "I'll have it sent to your room for privacy."

"Or we could help," Happy Jaskier offered.

Geralt thought about it for a moment. Five Jaskiers. Five Jaskiers with their hands all on him while he's naked, and scrubbing him clean. He tried to hide the shudder that went down his back at the thought. That's too much for one night.

"Original Jaskier," he muttered. "Stay with me and help. If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind, darling," Original Jaskier said, a soft smile on his face. "I'll go call for a bath. Go to your room and wait, if you please."

Geralt carefully pulled Sad Jaskier off of him and set him back on the bed so he could stand. He headed back to his room and, once he got the door closed behind him, he sank to his knees with a long, drawn out " _fuck_ ".

This was going to be a nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO IM BACK or at least back to this fic for a chapter. This one goes out to Wolfayal who reminded me that there's still at least one person waiting for an update for this ;-;

It wasn't until he heard a knock at the door that he got up so the woman could heft the tub in with a few others trailing behind her with steaming buckets. Behind them, Original Jaskier walked in as well to pour in two buckets with a proud grin on his face. He carried a bag with him, and set the bag down next to the tub. The maids bowed and took their leave, but Original Jaskier stayed like Geralt had asked. Geralt tried not to think about how that made something in him warm.

"Geralt?" Original Jaskier's voice cut through his thinking about not thinking about the warmth in his chest. "You know you have to strip and get into the bath to wash up, right?"

Geralt rolled his eyes and tugged off his clothes without any preamble while Original Jaskier took out a few different vials of oil. He really was the Original Jaskier it seemed, there was no reaction from him as Geralt stepped into the tub and sat down. He only pulled up a stool to sit on behind Geralt to get to work.

Geralt closed his eyes and hummed as Jaskier dumped warm water over his hair and ran his fingers and a comb through it to get all of the tangles out.

"You're quiet," Original Jaskier noted. "Nothing to say about this all? No lecture on how stupid it was for me to go to a sorceress to get my feelings removed?"

“I’ll think of a lecture later,” was all Geralt muttered as he let himself relax a bit in the warm water.

“Well. It would be a shame if you happened to forget to lecture me because you had such a nice relaxing bath,” Original Jaskier mused. Geralt didn’t need to open his eyes or turn around to know there was that usual bright grin on his face with a hint of mischief.

His brows knit together. He should have said no, to still lecture him on the risk of magic. But the way Original Jaskier’s-- _Jaskier’s_ \-- fingers were starting to comb through his hair, teasing the knots out and guiding his head back so he could melt fully against the tub, it was hard to think of a lecture. Jaskier had even folded a fluffy towel against the rim to pillow his nek.

“Oh, but that witcher memory of yours is too good, isn’t it?” Jaskier’s voice came closer to his ear than he was expecting, and he couldn’t stop the shudder that went through him. “Maybe a good massage would get you to truly forget that lecture?”

Jaskier’s oiled fingers slipped out of his hair and onto his shoulders, pressing into the tense muscles just right. Geralt gave a low hum at that.

“Better be a damn good massage,” he grumbled. He felt the light puff of Jaskier’s breath ghost over the shell of his ear as the bard huffed a small laugh.

“The best in town,” Jaskier promised as he started to get to work, his thumbs expertly finding and kneading out a knot in Geralt’s neck. That spot had been bothering him for a few weeks now, that was the only reason why the breathy moan slipped past his lips.

“That’s not a--” Geralt shuddered and melted as Jaskier continued to loosen his sore muscles. Had he really been that stiff?

“What was that, love?”

“Not a high bar,” he finished in a grumble. Fuck, he could admit it to himself now. He had missed Jaskier. The bard was being unusually nice to him after he had blamed him for all of his problems and left him to descend down a mountain alone, but Geralt guessed that was probably because his anger was all bottled up in a separate body and stored down the hall.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Jaskier murmured in his ear as he pressed just next to his spine. “What are you worrying about now?”

“Mm, want to say it in front of all of you,” Geralt replied back, though half his words were slurred.

“I can pass the message along.”

“Wanted to apologize.”

Jaskier’s hands barely even stilled at that, he only rubbed his hands down along Geralt’s right arm, pressing into all of the right places to loosen him up and make his arm go limp. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So..here’s my apology.”

Jaskier stilled for a moment, as if waiting for something, and when whatever it was that he was waiting for didn’t come, he gave a soft chuckle. “You letting me massage you is your apology?”

“No, fuck I…” Geralt trailed off, and gave a frustrated growl. Words were too damn hard, even more when Jaskier was being too distracting with how good he was at massaging all of the tension out.

Another soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it darling. Just relax for me, okay?” One of Jaskier’s hands left his arm to reach up and smooth over his hair. Geralt tilted his head back into the touch, a low hum leaving him.

“There, that’s perfect,” Jaskier whispered, his nails lightly scratching over Geralt’s scalp. Geralt purred, feeling the rumbling start in his chest and steadily grow louder.

“Oh darling, you are perfect.” Geralt was barely half awake at this point, his head tilted back against the towel again. Jaskier’s fingers brushed over his cheek, along his jaw and down his neck, before resuming with rubbing over Geralt’s wrist and hand, working out the stiffness that he hadn’t even realized was there.

Jaskier gently set Geralt’s hand back down in the tub, and Geralt let it drop to lay on his lap. He let his other arm be slowly worked down by Jaskier’s lithe fingers, as the rumbling purr in his chest continued.

“I think I can only remember a handful of times you’ve purred,” Jaskier noted. “And never for this long.”

Geralt stopped immediately, his eyes opening and something in his chest twisting.

“Hush,” Jaskier cooed, before he could say anything. He gave a small squeeze to Geralt’s elbow. “Never said I minded. It’s cute.”

“I’m a witcher. Not supposed to be cute,” Geralt grumbled back and let his eyes shut again, though his brow was drawn in a frown.

“Well, I think you are,” Jaskier murmured, his fingers letting go of Geralt’s arm to press and rub lightly at his temples. It was hard to keep the tension in his face when Jaskier’s hands were so skilled, and he felt so relaxed. He could almost pretend for a moment that they were all back to normal, that there weren’t four other Jaskiers down the hall doing-- gods knew what.

Geralt didn’t want to think about that right now. He just wanted to focus on the gentle hands smoothing reverently down his neck to ease out any tension that had crept back in.

“There,” Jaskier purred, his hands stilling on Geralt’s shoulders. “Feeling better?”

Geralt didn’t bother replying, he simply lifted up the arm that Jaskier had only massaged halfway down. Jaskier laughed softly, a light, breathy sound that Geralt wanted to hear for the rest of his days, and got back to work on massaging his forearm and wrist.

“Sorry darling, got distracted,” Jaskier said as he rubbed his thumb up and down along the back of his wrist.

“You keep calling me that,” Geralt mumbled, though he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Why?”

“Habit, I suppose. I call everyone darling,” Jaskier mused. Geralt faintly noted the sound of his heartbeat picking up. “Sorry, I’ll stop. Forgot you’re not into the whole...endearment thing.”

“Hm.” He didn’t mind. Geralt wanted to scream that he didn’t mind being called light endearments, even if they didn’t mean anything to Jaskier. But the words were caught in his throat, and a tense silence wrapped around them. It was nearly choking.

“Why’d you do it?” he spoke up suddenly. “I want to hear from you. Not from the extremes.”

Jaskier paused. “Well, you heard the whole story. Not much else I can offer you,” he said with a sigh. “Hurt, sad, alone, angry. Wanted to stop feeling it all. Yennefer said she could help. And she did. Never thought she’d take away my ability to perform as well.”

“You can still sing,” Geralt muttered. “You’re still you. Still have the same vocal chords and training.”

“No muse to make me want to sing however,” Jaskier pointed out. “That’s all in the, ah..what did you call him?”

“Performance Jaskier.”

“Yes, that one.”

“Did she say how to get you all back together?”

Jaskier barked out a laugh. “Why would I want to? I’m content. No extreme emotions, simply living life. Why, I may even go and take over my duties as Viscount. I’m certainly heartless enough for it now.”

“But not happy,” Geralt noted. “Your happiness is down the hall.”

“Yes, well. That’s the price to pay for such a thing,” Jaskier mused. “Not that I know the difference, I don’t feel any sadness over it.”

Geralt frowned. This wasn’t Jaskier. Not the Jaskier he knew, anyways. This was just a shell, a husk of someone he once knew. “How do the others feel about it?”

“Who cares? Like you said, I’m the original Jaskier. Therefor, I am the one to make the decisions. And I decide, I stay split.” Jaskier sighed and combed his fingers through Geralt’s hair again. “Can we please drop the topic? It’s rather dull. I’d much rather know what you’ve been up to in this time. Went back to Cintra yet?”

“No,” Geralt muttered. “Wanted to get drunk first.”

“Drunk? To celebrate you getting your blessing?” Jaskier asked plainly, and Geralt flinched.

“No,” was all he could manage to say. He didn’t want to admit out loud that he wanted to forget that he was all alone.

“Hmm.”

Geralt could feel the smile that was surely on the bard’s face. For even if he had lost the drive to perform to another one of him, he was still a bard. “Hm,” he agreed.

“Well, I’m all done here. I’ll leave you to wash your ah, lower section.” Jaskier patted Geralt’s shoulder and stood up. “I’ll take your apology back to the other four.”

 _Stay_ , Geralt’s mind screamed. But he couldn’t do that to Jaskier. Not when it was clear he didn’t want to be here with Geralt. “I’ll come by once I’m finished.”

“Sounds lovely,” Jaskier said. “See you then.”

It felt hollow, and the door closing behind Jaskier as he left felt more like a death sentence than a simple exit. Geralt sighed. This was all too messy. Monsters, he could deal with. Missing persons, he could deal with. Emotions? Not so much. Especially not when it involved his— _a_ bard. Jaskier was always complicated and made things difficult for him like that. A small smile tugged at his lips at the thought while he scrubbed the rest of himself down quickly and easily. He could just leave, let Jaskier figure it out or simply get used to living life in the extremes— or, in Original Jaskier’s case, without the extremes— and go on with his own life.

But he remembered the way Sad Jaskier had sobbed and clung to him, curled up as close as he could and flinching when Bitchy Jaskier and Performance Jaskier brought up every slight Geralt had ever said or done against Jaskier. Something in his chest squeezed at that, and he made up his mind. He dried himself off and got changed into a loose shirt and trousers as fast as he could without tripping over himself like an idiot.

He pulled on his boots— no telling when the floors were last cleaned— and headed down the hall once more. He paused outside of the door, not able to hear much inside. Some quiet chatter between a couple of the Jaskiers, but he couldn’t tell which. With a deep breath, he steeled himself and knocked.

The door cracked open briefly before it was flung open and Jaskier stood there with a wide, beaming smile. Happy Jaskier. “Geralt! Hello again witcher! What can I— _we_ do for you?”

Geralt froze briefly. He could just keep this Jaskier. The one that was constantly his bright and cheery self. But…there wouldn’t be any singing. There wouldn’t be any calm, content moments between them. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, the sad one. Sad Jaskier,” he said, shifting a bit on his feet.

There was a sniffle from in the room. “Yes?”

Geralt leaned over a bit to peer around Happy Jaskier, and spotted Sad Jaskier sitting cross-legged on the floor with his back against the bed. “Wanted to ask if you want to spend the night in my room,” he said, his tone coming out more gruff than he wanted. “To make things a little easier for all of you.”

“Are you sure?” Sad Jaskier asked in a small voice.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you—” Happy Jaskier started, but Bitchy Jaskier pushed him out of the way to glare at Geralt.

“Thought you would have skipped town by now,” Bitchy Jaskier snapped. “What, you only want Jaskier if it’s the meek one? The one that doesn’t talk or sing or joke? The one that _doesn’t get into trouble for you_?”

Geralt took a step back in surprise. “I— thought that it would…be easier for all of you if one of you stayed with me. Like old times.”

“I—” Sad Jaskier spoke up, but paused and pulled his knees up to his chest as fresh tears spilled from his eyes.

Original Jaskier sat behind him on the bed and ran his fingers over his hair. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Do you?”

The choked sob that left Sad Jaskier and the jerky shake of his head broke Geralt’s heart.

“I see,” he muttered, trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “I’ll..be in my room. I’ll leave the door unlocked if you change your mind. If any of you do.”

“I cannot stress how utterly idiotic of an idea that is,” Bitchy Jaskier said with a heavy sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But fine, you’re the big scary strong witcher that doesn’t need friends. It’s not my place to worry if you get your throat slit in the middle of the night.”

“I won’t,” Geralt promised.

“You better not, or I’ll learn necromancy and bring you back so I can kill you once more,” Bitchy Jaskier threatened, though there was something softer in his eyes for just a brief moment before he came back to himself and glared once more at Geralt. “Now, if you’re done bothering me, we have some beauty sleep to get.”

“Of course. Good night,” Geralt said. The door slammed in his face before he could get another word out. He sighed and trudged back to his room, feeling the weight of being alone even worse now. His bed, truly only designed for one person, still felt cold and too big with just him in it.

He barely got any sleep. He tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position and stop his mind from replaying the reminder that there were _five Jaskiers_ just down the hall, and none of them wanted to be with him. He was rejected five times over by his former bard. Not that he asked the others, anyways. It was obvious that none of them wanted to be with him. Not even Original Jaskier, who was stripped of his anger and sadness towards Geralt.

Geralt stared up at the dark ceiling in silence for what felt like ages before finally settling on meditating. He sat on his knees on the bed, his hands on his thighs, and focused on clearing his mind. Even when his mind was a storm of emotions and thoughts, he could fall back on meditating. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.

Finally, just as the moon was reaching its peak, he heard a soft knock on the door. It was so quiet that he almost didn’t notice, until it came again. He snapped out of his meditation and stood, walking swiftly to the door. He opened it to see Jaskier, dressed in his nightclothes, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and hugging himself. He sniffled a bit. Sad Jaskier, then.

“Ah, sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked.

“No, couldn’t sleep,” Geralt admitted. He stepped aside and opened the door wider, beckoning Sad Jaskier inside.

“You too?” Sad Jaskier asked, hesitantly stepping inside. Geralt closed the door behind him and, with a flick of his fingers, casted Igni to light a few of the candles in the room so that Jaskier could see.

“Mhm. What has you awake?” Geralt asked. “Want a drink?”

“No, thank you. I’ve— I’ve spent long enough drowning my sorrows. I just need to sleep,” Jaskier admitted softly. It hurt, he acted so much like himself still, but there was an air of sadness that constantly lingered around him.

“You can have the bed to yourself,” Geralt offered, and sank down in a chair at the small table in the room. “I’ll keep watch here.”

Sad Jaskier fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt briefly and cleared his throat. “Um. I was hoping— earlier, you…hugged me. I wanted that again. But— sleeping.”

“Cuddling?” Geralt clarified with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm.”

Geralt frowned. It wasn’t unusual for Jaskier and him to share a bed when money got tight, and he’d oftentimes wake up in the morning to Jaskier clinging to him, but for him to ask outright to cuddle, that was new.

“Okay,” he agreed. He stood once more and pulled back the blankets to let Jaskier get comfortable first before he carefully slid in next to him. He tried to keep his distance, but Jaskier curled up to him like earlier and wrapped an arm around him, and Geralt couldn’t help but slide an arm under Jaskier’s head to act as a pillow while his other arm slipped around him to pull him closer. He knew he’d wake up with his arm dead and possibly even needing to be cut off, but it was worth it. Jaskier shifted a bit and nuzzled into the hollow of Geralt’s throat.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Geralt hummed. He stroked his thumb over the slight juts of Jaskier’s spine that he could feel through his shirt. “Are you eating enough?” He knew how expensive it was just to keep himself and Jaskier fed, he couldn’t imagine how much it took to keep five Jaskiers fed.

“Yeah. As much as I can,” Jaskier mumbled back.

Geralt silently vowed to make sure there was enough food in all five of them in the morning. He had the coin for it. He could hold off on getting drunk, it was more important that none of the emotional bards died. He wondered briefly how that would work, but the thought of Jaskier in any form dying— even the one that seemed to hate him— hurt too much to stay on.

“Sleep,” he whispered, snuffing out all of the flickering candles with one cast of Igni.

“Promise you won’t leave?”

“I won’t.” Geralt gave him a brief squeeze hug, as if he could soothe his worries if he held him tight enough.

 _Never again_ , he vowed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment and a kudos if you liked it, I thrive off of validation and it makes the creative juice go into overdrive
> 
> I'll see you in the next chapter! No telling when that'll be, but hopefully it won't be too long!


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